Working for the phantom
by Tesla-nator3
Summary: (takes place in the early 1900s) When Andre Burkehalter came to work at the Paris opera house, all he wanted was a job that could help him support his family in Switzerland. He had no idea Erik was waiting the whole time for a man like him to come along. Leroux version. Please read. rated T for maturity, not violence. no sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

"Do you have any other background experiences?"

I'm almost done with the interview. Thank God Monsieur Richard hasn't given up on me yet. I reminded myself to be confident. For the millionth time.

"Well, let's see... When I was 15, I was working as an ingénieur's assistant, and I worked my way up, eventually becoming one myself." I try, saying it with not a hint of confidence in my voice.

"An ingénieur, you say?"

"That's right."

"Fifteen is fairly young to go into engineering."

"I needed money." I say slowly.

"What for?" He asks.

I am a little reluctant to explain my family situation. I'm usually very private about it. Then again, Monsieur Richard assured me I could be honest with him about anything before the interview. So, I decide to keep it as short an explanation as possible.

"To support my family back in Zermatt, for the most part. But I believe this job will be a great experience, and I will create the best sets L'Opera Populaire has ever seen."

Much better.

He nods, taking another glance at my resume, ignoring my last comment.

"It says here you are multi-lingual."

"Yes, sir. I lived in Switzerland for most of my life. I am fluent in English, German, Italian, and, of course, French. I also know some Spanish, as well."

Monsieur Richard looked up and smiled.

"If only Carlotta were still here. You two would have much to talk about. She was Spanish, you know."

"I'm sorry, who?"

"Our old Prima Donna, before mademoiselle Chimé took the job. You've heard of her, have you?"

"Of course, Monsieur. A beautiful singer, indeed."

"Yes. But we are getting off topic." He says.

I nod and shut my mouth.

"Where were you educated?"

"My father was my teacher. He taught me mathematics, languages, science, and some history. I am more experience with mathematics and science, specifically physical science."

Monsieur Richard was quiet for a moment, looking thoughtful. Surely I wouldn't get the job. I wasn't even a carpenter, only an ingénieur. I didn't even get formal schooling.

"Monsieur... How do you say it?" He asks. Here it comes. The 'I'm sorry, but you will not be working here,' apologetic statement. I try to brace myself.

"Burkehalter. You may call me Andre, if you like." I say softly, all the confidence in my voice gone.

"No need. I can pronounce your surname perfectly fine."

I hold my breath.

He stands up behind his desk and offers his hand.

"Welcome to L'Opera Populaire, Monsieur Burkehalter."

For a second I thought I had hallucinated. I shake his hand anyway, not really sure what he had said.

"I expect Monsieur Ager, our head carpenter, will be most delighted to meet you."

At that moment, all I could manage was

"Thank you. Thank you very much, sir."

He smiles and sits down. "I will ring someone up to direct you to his office." He says and traces over to the telephone he has on the right corner of his desk.

I raise my eyebrows.

"Wait, I'm starting today?" I ask.

"Of course. We have a lot of things to get done in so little time. We need all the help we can get. Especially for the sets."

As he starts to talk to the phone, I try to get my head straight. But I am still shocked. I can't believe I actually did it. I got a job at the most prestigious opera in France, maybe even the world. My family will be so excited. My father will be so proud. I can finally support them, since being an ingénieur doesn't exactly get you money to support a family of a mother, father, brother 3 sisters, and yourself.

Monsieur Richard finally gets off the phone and puts it down.

"You can wait in the lobby. Renée will meet you and take you to Monsieur Ager's quarters.

"You said that you will build the best sets L'Opera Populaire has ever seen. I hope you are not lying. Bonne chance, Monsieur, and have a good day."

I nod and walk out of Monsieur Richard's office, feeling the weight of the nervousness roll off of my shoulders. I have the job. Now I just need to impress the boss.

I wait for about 5 minutes in the grand lobby, admiring its huge staircase and seamless floors. I have never been in a room packed with so many people. Even with everyone, there was so much open room. No one was cramped next to each other, like back home in Zermatt. Usually, my whole family would be cramped into a cabin, already weak in structure because termites have been eating away at it. There were only 2 rooms: a bedroom and a kitchen. We would remove our waste outside. Somehow, we would all manage to socialize and share memories with each other like we were the happiest family in the world.

I haven't seen my family since I was 18. I miss them with all my heart, but I know I did the right thing by moving to France. They need the money. And, being the oldest sibling and the man of the house, I needed to take action.

"Excuse moi? Are you Monsieur Berkehalter?" A voice says behind me. I spin around to meet the face of a tall woman with gorgeous green eyes and long blonde hair.

"Yes."

She smiles. "Enchanté. I am Renée. I will be showing you to Monsieur Ager's quarters." She says.

"If you just follow me up the grand staircase, I'll show you where his office is."

She starts walking and I follow behind, smiling. I'm starting to like Paris.

Author's note: for anyone who read my previous fic, i am so sorry for what happened. i dont know how i cud have put on the wrong story. bad idea to have 2 documents labled "fanfiction"...

on a happier note: Finally, a fanfic that I'm confident in and that lets me exercise my French! I'm pretty sure I won't give up on this one! Fingers crossed! :)

This story takes place in around the early 1900s, after the phantom incident is resolved (or so they think...) in the movie/play, it takes place in 1870, when the opera house wasn't even completed yet. I am mostly basing this fic on the Leroux version, but I loved the phantom from the 2011 version at royal Albert hall (you can watch it for free on YouTube) so I'm going to make Erik more like that. Thanks so much for reading my story! Please comment!

Monsieur= Mr.

Mademoiselle=Ms.

Monsieur Richard- a co-owner of the Paris opera house (the other is Monsieur Moncharmin)

Carpenter-a person who builds the sets in an opera

Enchanté- pleased to meet you

Excuse moi- excuse me

ingénieur- a person who builds tricks and apparatuses for magicians

Zermatt- a small town in Switzerland, close to the Italian border.

L'Opera Populaire- the Paris Opera house

bonne chance- good luck


	2. Chapter 2

The grand staircase seemed to lead to heaven. The second floor of the opera was almost the opposite.

For one, it was crowded. Everyone looked like they were running to catch a train, and they stayed within their own groups. Singers with singers, ballerinas with ballerinas, stagehands with stagehands. No one ever mixed. They didn't do so much as glance at each other, then go back to talking with their own cliques.

Renée takes me through the large crowd rather swiftly despite all the chaos. The staircase then separates into two branches, leading to the second floor. I admire the huge arches and statues of Greek myths like a child admiring endless walls of containers with sweets in them, like so many I've seen here in Paris. The view of the opera house was better than anything. Maybe even better than the view from the top of L'tour Eiffel.

"So, you are our new assistant carpenter?" Renée asked, raising her voice a little.

"Apparently, I am." I say with equal volume.

She giggles, although I didn't know what was so funny about that. I ignore it and ask her about her job at the opera.

"I work with the front-of-house staff. I usually manage the tickets, but I also help out with the new employees coming to work here. It's quite a job, actually. You'd think it would be boring, but i actually rather enjoy it-"

"They actually let you do the ticket work?" I asked.

Renée's smile faded and she looked down.

"Oh, Renée, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it like that, I really didn't. I just didn't know they let women do these jobs. I don't read the news much..."

"Don't worry about it, Andre. I won't hate you because of this one little statement. We just met. I hate when people do that. They like you for some time, and then, when you make a mistake, they realize that you're not perfect and leave you. People have to realize that the human race is not perfect. Don't you agree?"

I smile, feeling relieved.

"Yes, completely. And thank you. I promise I'll be more careful with my words next time."

Her smile comes back in a heartbeat. "No need. You aren't perfect, you know.

"Ok, here we are." She says, leading me to a brown door.

"M. Ager's office is here. The sets are usually built here or on stage, depending on the size of the set, if we can disassemble it and put it on stage, and whether the pieces are portable by man power or not. "

"Oh."

She knocks on M. Ager's door.

"M. Ager? Are you in there?"

"Yes. Who is it?" Said a muffled voice from inside the door.

"It's Renée. Your new assistant is here."

"Send him in. The door's open."

Renée tries the lock.

"No it's not."

There is a grunt from inside the room. Footsteps follow a moment later and a man that must be M. Ager unlocks the door and opens it.

He is a middle aged man, with thinning hair and dark brown eyes. His face is lines with lines of age, fatigue, and stress. He's very fit for his age, but looks a little annoyed.

"Thank you, Renée. You can leave me alone with... What's your name, boy?"

"Andre Burkehalter, sir."

"Whatever he said."

Renée nods, wishes us both a good day, and walks back to the lobby.

M. Ager turns around and walks back into his office.

"Shut the door." He says. I do so.

If I had all of my stuff in here, his office could be any ingénieur's dream. There was plenty of space and open room, and a file cabinet, most likely containing blueprints for the sets. A whole wall takes up where he puts his supplies and tools.

"This is very impressive." I say.

M. Ager nods and eyes me. I feel a little uncomfortable, especially after what Renée said about people judging you. Hopefully he is not one of those people."

"How old are you?" He asks.

"Almost 20, sir." I say.

He nods and eyes me again.

"Have you ever built a set before?"

"Well, I've done some construction and engineering in the past, and I was an ingénieur for almost 2 years." I say.

"I didn't ask for your previous jobs, I asked if you've ever built a set."

"No, I've never built a set."

He nods.

"Wait here and don't touch anything. He says.

"If I come back, and anything is out of place, I'll make sure to have you fired immediately."

I raise my eyebrows, but nod understandingly as M. Ager walks out of the office, leaving me alone with a wall of tools that I'm not allowed to touch.

Gustave Ager storms down the grand staircase, trying to find M. Richard in the huge sea of people. When he got to the lobby, he did see M. Richard walking out of his office.

"Firmin!"

M. Richard turns his head to M. Ager.

"Bonjour, Gustave. Is there anything that I can do for you?"

M. Ager smiles and crosses his fingers behind his back.

"I promise."

M.- an abbreviation for Monsieur.

Stagehand- a person who moves props on and off the stage when the opera is taking place.

L'tour Eiffel- the Eiffel Tower.

Front-of-house staff- people who try to sell tickets, figure out how much for each ticket, etc.

Please comment on anything you have to say, and thanks for reading my fic!

Au revoir! Tesla-nator3


	3. Chapter 3

I'm guessing M. Ager doesn't like me that much.

But what have I done? I only met him a few minutes ago. Did I offend him? No. Did I disappoint him? No. At least, not yet. Was it because I've never-

Oh.

Yeah, I'm fired.

I'm about to walk out when M. Ager walks back into the office, his face not giving away any emotion.

"Am I fired?" I ask. I feel like a child. When I was younger, whenever I would cause mischief with my sisters or mother, they would always report to father. He was not a big man, not much taller than me, but he could make anyone feel as small as an ant when he was angry.

"Am I in trouble?" I would ask.

It was one of those times when I was 15, a few days before I had gone to work for an ingénieur. Earlier, I had gotten into a scuffle with my brother about why I was leaving so early. Cédric was only 6, then. He didn't understand what an ingénieur even was, and that father had always said that family was the most important value, and etc. I wasn't very good with children, and as the arguing continued, my voice got louder and louder until it turned into a yell. Of course, my mother heard it.

She commanded Cédric to step out of the huge bedroom my family slept in, one bed for mother and father, one for Cédric, and I and one for my sisters. Cédric stepped out, on the brink of crying, and my father stepped in, sighed, and closed the door behind him.

"Am I in trouble?" I asked. His dark brown eyes were filled with stress. I never forgot that look on his face.

"Andre, sit down." He said to me in Italian. I was bracing myself for a scold, or a yell. But he was quieter this time. More gentile.

I sat down on the big bed my parents shared. He sat right across from me.

"Andre, soon you will go far away from here. You will learn what true labor is, and how to really work for what you deserve." He started.

"In life, you are going to get in trouble. You can't always be afraid of it, just apologize and move on. If you don't, it will be much harder for you to live. Do you understand?"

I nodded and apologized for yelling at Cédric. After that, I never asked if I was wrong or in trouble. Never. Not until now.

"No, Andre. I wasn't even going to consider it. Until now."

I could feel all of the blood rush out of my face and my knees getting wobbly. I try to hold back my lunch that's coming up.

M. Ager smiles. "Relax, kid. You really need to learn how to take a joke. You look like you're at your hanging. Laugh a little. It's good for you."

Thank the Great Lord.

I laughed a little uneasily, but felt myself regain my balance and my stomach relaxing.

"So, back to work." M. Ager continues. "In 3 weeks, the opera will be putting on Romeo and Juliet. Your job is to make Juliet's tower, which I haven't even started yet.

"Since the Prima Donna is new, I need you to get Mlle. Chimé's measurements for the tower, and I need them by today. its very important that we start this tower today. There is a measuring tape somewhere in the drawers, over there, in a cubby labeled 'miscellaneous'." He says, pointing to the huge wall of tools.

I turned to the wall and found the miscellaneous cubby, which was smaller than all of the other ones, being about half the size of a regular cubby. As I look for the measuring tape, i find myself starting to smile. My first real job at L'Opera Populaire is meeting the Prima Donna. Indeed, I am liking Paris.

"Do you know where I can find her, sir?" I ask.

"Do you know where the singers' dressing rooms are?"

"Yes."

"She should be there. You'll know which one is hers.

"Oh, and don't forget a writing pad and pen."

I nod, grab a writing pad and pen, and step out of the office. As I make my way toward the dressing rooms, I surprise myself. I was secretly hoping to find Renée on the way.

When I arrive at the dressing rooms located behind the stage, I immediately understand what M. Ager meant.

I knock on the door of the dressing room in which Mlle. Chimé's powerful voice was more than audible, even behind the oak doors. Besides her singing, her dressing room is a rose in a field of weeds. There were roses hand painted all along the sides of the red oak doors, with gold plating around the doorknobs and locks. I knock again this time, a little louder. She stops singing at my second knock.

"Who is it?" She calls.

"It's the assistant carpenter. I need to take your measurements for Juliet's tower."

"You may come in. The door is open."

I turn the doorknob and walk in. I am awed by how big the Prima Donna's dressing room is. It is almost the size of M. Ager's office, if not, the same.

Adjacent to the door, a huge, gold plated full body mirror is leaned up against a wall. There are flowers everywhere in huge porcelain vases, and portraits all around the room. The beautiful Prima Donna was sitting at a make-up table at the side of the room, also covered in roses.

"Mademoiselle Chimé?"

She turns her head at me. Her blue eyes were as deep as the ocean, but light, like the sky. Her straight brown hair grew down to her lower back, even in a braid. She stands up and smiles at me, and I return it.

"My name is Andre." I say, holding out my hand. "It is such an honor to meet you, Mademoiselle. I recall seeing you in a few operas before you came here. You were truly outstanding. I mean, you still are, but those performances truly blew me away."

She laughs lightly and shakes my hand. "You are very funny, Andre. I don't recall seeing you here, before."

I stay silent and direct her to the center of the dressing room where i start to measure her torso.

"Yes, I am new. I started today, actually. This is my first assignment."

Mlle. Chimé sighs.

"So, I am not the only one who started the moment that I walked into Le Palais Garnier. I don't know why M. Moncharmin made that rule. It just puts more pressure on the person."

I write down some more measurements I had just finished while she was talking.

"Did they even give you a chance to bring your things?" She asks.

I look up from my work. They didn't let me bring my things. I forgot them in my apartment, which was actually the basement. Not because I couldn't afford a better room with the money I had, but because of the space. I am still working on some projects that I plan to sell to other magicians and ingénieurs, as a side project. I continue my work.

"No, they didn't. Should I tell them?"

"I guess for you, it's fine. Carpenters don't live here, so you're good. I was just wondering."

I nod and write down the last measurement.

"Thank you for your time, mademoiselle. It was a pleasure to meet you." I say.

"You too, Andre. I hope you will enjoy your job here."

I gather my things and head out the door.

"I'll see you at lunch." I say

She smiles. "Yes. Maybe."

Mlle- an abbreviation of Mademoiselle

Le Palais Garnier- another name for the Paris Opera house.

Please please please comment and review. And have a good day!

Tesla-Nator3

P.S. I promise Erik will show up soon. Stay tuned!


	4. Chapter 4

By the time lunch starts, M. Ager and I have gotten very far with the tower. We already finished sanding the parts that would eventually become the base, and he even had time to take it backstage. The base was built in 2 parts so that it would fit going out the door. We would build that and the rest of the tower backstage later.

"M. Ager?" I asked him on the way to the cafeteria, "Why do we have to work on the second floor? Wouldn't it be easier to-"

"Move the workshop closer to the stage? I've been working here for about 10 years, and I keep asking myself the same question, Monsieur."

He looked like he was expecting me to say something more. I didn't, so he continued.

"The Opera House does care more about the singers and dancers than they do about their carpenter, after all. They need the space for them."

Had I heard him wrong?

"Monsieur, I do believe you said 'carpenter'," I say silently.

He stops me in my place and turns to look at me.

"Listen to me, garçon," he says in a low tone that I have never heard from him. "Just because M. Richard likes ingénieurs doesn't mean that you can get my title right away. You've got a lot to learn before I can even consider you a carpenter. Do I make myself clear?"

I take a step back.

"Crystal." Is the only word I can choke out.

"Good. I'll meet you back in the workshop 5 minutes before lunch. That's 12:15, not a minute later. If you need me, I'll be at the cafe a few blocks down."

And just like that, he left me to eat lunch without a friend.

After I get my food, I try to look around for Mlle. Chimé, but she is nowhere to be found. Where can she be? She's probably still in her dressing room or in rehearsal. I better find somewhere to sit, I tell myself. I can tell the girls don't look too fond of me with all of my searching.

"Andre?" Renée's familiar voice calls. I turn around and find her sitting with another woman and 2 other gentlemen. "You may sit here, if you like."

I immediately walk over to her table, grateful that Renée is so open. If a person like her weren't working here, definitely wouldn't make it through the first day here. I plop my food down next to her and the taller gentlemen of the 2. He looks like he is related to Renée, maybe an older brother or a cousin. The other gentleman is just the opposite. The stocky rosso looks very shy and doesn't bother to look up from his plate. The woman is shorter and has auburn hair.

"You guys, this is Andre Burkehalter. He's the new carpenter here." She introduces me to the other people at the table.

"This is Pierre. He works with me and the other front-of-house staff." She motions to the blond man sitting next to her.

She introduces the other man as Aiden, who does props, and the woman as Melina, who works in the wig department. They all greet me silently and go back to their food. Renée tries to start up a conversation.

"Did you guys know that Andre is the new carpenter here?"

"Yes. That's how you introduced him to us." the man named Antoine says.

"Oh dear. Clearly I don't know Andre very well, either. Andre, tell us all about yourself."

Renée says

I feel my throat start to get hot. Talking about myself to one person is fine, but with a crowd of more than 3 people? I simply can't do it. It's so easy to be fake around one person. A crowd is always watching.

"I... um... I used to be an ingénieur for quite some time, actually-"

"Really?" asks the blond man named Pierre. "How intriguing. What magician did you work for?"

No one had ever asked me that. No one even knew what an ingénieur did, or they didn't care. The burning in my throat and the knot in my stomach go down almost instantaneously.

"Dante, when he was in Switzerland. When I wasn't working for him, i worked with a couple of less known magicians in Switzerland."

"Melina immediately drops her fork and knife and looks up.

"You worked for Dante?"

I nod.

"That is so cool! I've seen his shows so many times. He is amazing. I mean, if you built his tricks, that must mean that you are the true magician. You put on a good show, Monsieur."

I feel myself blush slightly. So they don't only care about the man onstage, after all.

"Are you from Switzerland?" Aiden asks in a peculiar accent.

"Yes. I lived in Zermatt for most of my life. It's close to Italy."

Aiden nods with interest. "Very interesting."

I only knew them for 40 minutes, but I feel like I've known my 4 new friends since birth, like I know everything about them. Melina, for example, was born in Luxembourg, but moved to France when she was very young. She has been interested in magicians ever since she was a child, but never told her parents. Pierre is actually Renée's cousin. They've been living together after he lost his job and his house. Renée saw that there was an opening for the job at the Opera House, and the rest is history. I find myself most in common with Aiden. He had a poor family in Ireland for quite some time, as well. His father, older brother and himself had to work very hard to get to where they are today. Currently, Aiden's brother is a journalist working in England. Aiden and I are so close that I've even agreed to speak English (his home language) with him from time to time. I didn't even care that M. Ager is going to yell at me for being 2 minutes late to work.

rosso- redhead in Italian

Luxembourg- a very small country on the border of Belgium, France, and Germany.

garçon-boy

For anyone at all who is reading my FanFiction, please continue, comment, and review. Have a good day!


	5. Chapter 5

"Can you believe Romeo and Juliet only one week away?" Renee asks as we walk through Champs-Elysees.

I sigh.

"Honestly, I'm still trying to accept the thought. I can't believe that three months ago I was a shy Ingénieur with no friends. I think I've even gotten M. Ager to like me, now."

Renee laughs. "He's not a bad man, Andre. Just a little... stubborn at times. He likes to have things his way." Renee expects me to respond. I don't say anything, so she continues. "And besides, you've got me and Aiden and Pierre. And Melina, my God. There isn't a time when I don't find you two talking about magic."

I chuckle.

"What's so funny?" she demands.

"There's no such thing as magic. Only science."

"Says the man that used to work for magicians."

"First of all, I don't work for magicians I work with them. Very different. Second of all, without science magic wouldn't be possible. Melina also understands that." It comes out a little harsher than I intend, but Renee doesn't seem to mind.

"You don't believe in any magic? Not even love?" Renee tries.

I don't answer.

"Andre, how could you not believe in love?"

"I didn't say that. I just... I didn't know people think of love as magic." I say.

"So how do you define magic?"

I look at her and smile. "Why don't I show you?"

The basement has become sort of a workshop for me. It is supported by wooden poles which have small reminders nailed to them. There are different apparatuses scattered all throughout the room of all different sizes and shapes. there is a small work table in which some tools sit on, and a few engineering machines near the back wall. There are small lamps all around which dimly illuminate the room. Renee looks around the room, curiosity lining her face.

"Do you also live here?" she asks.

"Yes. The landlord allowed me, as long as I pay the rent, of course."

Renee nods, still looking around the room. Her eyes fall on a large glass tank shoved into a corner. "What's this?" she asks.

I grab the tank and wheel it out to the center of the room. I open the lid of the tank.

"In a show, this tank would be filled with water. An assistant would be dropped in from the top, right here. Then, the lid would close-" I close the tank, "and a curtain would cover the tank. There is a trick lock right here at the top of the tank, and a small latch. the assistant would slide the latch, pull the trick lock, and would be able to get out of the tank with no problem."

I expect Renee to say something, but she doesn't. After a few moments, I ask her if everything is all right.

"Yes, yes. It's just... wow. Now that you know how the trick works it's not that exciting anymore."

I frown and look at my feet. "I'm sorry." I mutter.

"No, don't be. Now I understand why you said that the only magic is science. But I must say, it is very impressive. I guess the assistant does all the work then, after all." She says, changing the subject.

I look up. "Not always. For example-" I walk to the table and search through a toolbox. I find the pistol, load it, and quickly slip a bullet into my pocket. I walk back to Renee and give her the gun She studies it and I walk back a few feet.

"Shoot me."

Renee looked like I was speaking to her in Italian. She shakes her head and blinks a few times.

"What?"

"You heard me. Shoot me. Right here, in the chest."

"Andre, I can't shoot you."

"Why not?"

Renee looks at me as if I've gone mad. "One, it's Sunday. Two, I'm not a murderer. And three, I've really come to like you and I don't want to be responsible for your death."

"Renee, don't worry. I've done this trick many times. I know what I'm doing."

"You can ask anything else of me, Andre. Just not this." She turns her back to me and droops her head.

I sigh.

"Renee," She doesn't move.

"I wouldn't be asking you to do this if I didn't trust you. I trust you with my life more than almost anyone else in the opera house."

She turns around.

"And now, I'm asking you to trust me that I can do this."

She looks down at the pistol and then back at me. "Promise me you won't die."

"I promise."

She turns off the safety and points the gun at the floor. "And what happens if I accidentally murder you?"

I laugh. "You won't."

She nods, but I know she's not convinced. She lifts her trembling arm and puts her hand on the trigger.

"Take your time." I say.

Seconds pass by, but it feels like hours. I am ready for the sound. Renee closes her eyes and pulls the trigger.

I make a motion with my hand like I'm catching a bullet, but Renee still has her eyes closed. Her arm is still shaking.

I walk toward her with the bullet in my hand. "Renee, you can open your eyes."

She does, drops the pistol and flings her arms around me. "I don't want to know how you did it."

"You haven't even seen the bullet yet."

She lets go of me and I show her the bullet.

"Don't you dare make me do that again!" she says, the humor returning to her voice.

I laugh and promise her I won't.

"Would you like to see something else?" I ask.

She turns the safety back off and sets the pistol down on the table. "I think I've had enough for today. Maybe next Sunday."

I nod understandingly.

"Would you like to walk more?" I ask.

"Of course."

I lead her to a small staircase that leads to the lobby and escort her out.

"Wow." She says.

"What?"

"You've never known real wonder, Andre."

"What do you mean?"

"Have you ever seen a magic show, and not knew how all the tricks worked?" She asks as we step outside.

"Once, when I was very young. My father took my sisters and I to a magic show just outside Zermatt. My father saved enough money to go right before Christmas."

"And?"

"It was one of the best experiences of my life. So then I started thinking. I became sort of obsessed with trying to figure out how the magicians did their tricks. So when I saw that Dante had openings for an ingénieur, I was ecstatic. I studied engineering endlessly, and when the time came to get a job I immediately applied."

"How can a man become obsessed with such a thing?" Renee asked.

"It just happened. My family was very poor and it was one of the only things that gave me hope. The thought that one day I could work with the people that create wonder and excitement. To let people believe in something so impossible can be done. That, to me, is real magic. "

Renee looks at the floor as we continue walking. We walk for another 5 minutes before I suggest that we start heading home.

"I can walk by myself. My house isn't that far."

"Are you sure?" I ask.

"Yes. I will see you in the mourning. You and I both have a long week ahead of us."

I nod, wish her a good night, and we part our separate ways.

As I walk back to my apartment, I can't help but notice that I somehow feel... lighter. More relaxed. I guess taking your feelings out can do a lot of things to make you feel better. But what Renee said about love...

I shake the thought out of my head. She's only known me for 3 months. How could she be in love with me already? And if Renee was in love with me, she would surely tell me. Renee could tell me anything. It could also be the preparation for Romeo and Juliet that brought her to ask.

Yeah, that makes sense. I just hope I'm right.


End file.
